Chaos and the End
by A-GIRL-NAMED-BILLY
Summary: Sequel to Light. Moira with all her insanity and Draco with his confusion again. As always, reviews are welcome.
1. Charity

Chapter 1: Charity

"Whoa," Moira breathed, watching the body pass the doorway. Draco was standing right behind her, watching the procession of Death Eaters levitating Charity Burbage's limp form past the door. They had blown out the candles a moment before and were now standing concealed by the darkness and the door, which they had cracked open. Moira turned her head and looked up into Draco's face, which looked stunned and scared. She took the smallest of steps backward, toward Draco, felt her shoulder blades touch his chest, then closed the door silently. She turned on the spot, put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him gently away from her as she stepped back into the room. "You don't see that every day," she commented, turing away from Draco and going over to light the nearest candle.

Draco did the same and they both walked around the edges of the room, lighting candles until they met in the middle, standing next to the window. As they walked, Draco replied, "No, you certainly don't." Moira looked around at him; he kept his eyes entirely focused on the candle he was lighting, then moved on. "There's a meeting tonight," Draco continued, "in the Dining Hall. That's why they've brought her here."

Moira continued walking, waving her hand over the candles, which ignited as she passed. Working with fire had alway been fun and easy for her. She kept her eyes on what she was doing as she said, "They'll kill her," as calmly as she could.

"I know," he said, feigning apathy and failing just as she had. Neither of them had the heart to actually do this. That was for certain. They had never said it aloud, but had both come to the silent agreement to help each other. "All because she published an article in the _Prophet_." They had both reached the back of the room, and were standing facing each other. "I told you I don't like the company here."

"Charity or the Death Eaters and Captain Crazy?"

She never failed to make him smile even when he knew he shouldn't. "The Death Eaters and the Dark Lord," he answered her. "Captain Crazy? Really?" Moira shrugged and smiled at him. It was funny to Draco that this carefree attitude of hers, this attitude that said 'I don't let anyone tell me what I can and can't, or should and shouldn't do', used to be something annoying to him. He liked that in her now, and he wished he had at least some of her tenacity.

It was then that both the Dark Marks on their forearms burned, summoning them. They both jumped at the sudden pain and looked away from each other, down at the black tattoos. "Want to go?" Moira asked. She always took everything as an invitation, an opportunity; no one gave her orders, they gave her suggestions.

"Not really," he answered honestly, but knew he'd be in trouble if he didn't go. His family was not quite off the hook. Moira did what she wanted when she wanted and the Dark Lord didn't complain too much because when she was useful, she was _very_ useful and he wanted her on his side. "But I'm going to."

"Me too. Apathetic as I pretend to be I'm interested to see what Tom says to her. We can leave early, how about that?"

"What, just get up and walk out?" He looked confused as they started for the door together. Moira was putting out the candles behind them as they walked.

She shrugged. "Sure. Why not?" He gave her a meaningful look as he pulled the door open and stepped back to allow her to pass and she rolled her eyes.

They sat down beside each other at the long dining table. Draco on Moira's left, Lucius (who looked like death warmed over from his year in Azkaban) to Draco's left and an empty chair on Moira's right. There was an also empty space near the head of the table where Tom was sitting. The whole group was waiting for two people.

Several silent minutes past. Moira had chosen not to look at Charity until she had to, but she could see Draco's eyes looking up ever so often. It was brutal the way she was just hanging their, upside down, rotating around and around almost right above their heads. Her hair was knotted and their were cuts and bruises on her face. Even for Death Eaters, they had been unkind while capturing her.

Moira, socially awkward as she was, leaned over and whispered in Draco's ear so that no one else could hear, "It figures that this is your house and you and your parents have just about the worst seats here doesn't it?" He gave a very small nod and clenched his teeth together, looking as though he was about to be sick. He was still not entirely well from the events of last year. Some of his color had come back and he was eating more but the damage he had done to himself in that year had not been completely undone in a month's time.

As the doors opened Moira clicked her fingers once under the table, offering Draco her hand. His eyes moved quickly from Charity's face to where he could see her arm. She was not looking at him, but at Yaxley and Snape, who had just entered the room, but when he took her hand she did not jump.

Tom instructed the late arrivals where to sit. Snape took the seat near the head and Yaxley sat beside Moira, who didn't look at him even in greeting. 'Captain Crazy' as Moira called him spoke to Snape, who began to divulge the plans the Order of the Phoenix had been making over the past few weeks. Moira had not seen Dumbledore's portrait about what they were to tell him and what they were to keep silent about, but she must give the same story as Snape. When Tom looked at her for confirmation, she nodded but Yaxley spoke up.

"Dawlish?" Moira turned her face to him. "He's always been susceptible to being hexed. You don't think-," but Snape spoke over here, wisely on his part because Yaxley did not look happy at being addressed thus by Moira.

"The Ministry no longer plays a part in the boy's protection." Moira, irritated, shut the conversation out from that point onward. She would not be a member of the party sent after Potter and therefore did not need to be mentally present until Charity was brought in. If she did need to be aware of the proceedings, someone was sure to get her attention, or Draco would inform her later.

Draco saw Moira lean her head back on her chair and he wished he could have her peace of mind and her confidence. Sometimes, like now for instance, he wished she would be more careful, but it would be nice for him to have some of her attitude. A 50/50 mix between the two extremes would be ideal.

Moira was roused twice from her drowsy state. Once when many of the Death Eaters were stamping around like elephants, jeering at the Malfoys and once when she heard the scream from the cellar. Draco cringed at the scream and Moira looked sideways at him and gripped his hand a little tighter. He tried to sit calmly on his seat as his father was forced to hand over his wand to the Dark Lord and averted his eyes from all others when his father requested that he be loaned Tom's wand as compensation for his own.

When Voldemort flicked his want to wake Charity Burbage Moira sat up straight again, earning herself a glance from Yaxley. She heard the Dark Lord ask whether Snape recognized her, then felt Draco's hand cling more tightly to her own as he was addressed and then ignored again.

Charity was crying as she fought the invisible ropes that held her. She was pleading with Snape to help her, to have mercy on his friend, and even though Snape was not a nice person to speak with, Moira knew that had they been in other company he may have done something to help her. She revolved again, still begging for help. Draco kept a tight grip on Moira's hand to prevent her from doing something irrational. For such a smart person, she did do a great many things that were completely illogical. He remembered her words from the tower a month ago. 'There was nothing you could have ever done. Death is inevitable,' and hoped those words were worth more to her than just the feeling that she knew he was relaxing as he stared at the man he was supposed to kill.

Moira looked from Charity to Draco, mouthed 'I know,' to him, and looked back at the professor. Her eyes stayed fixed (though perhaps they got a little wider) as the jet of green light hit the poor woman, who then fell to the table with a loud crash. "Dinner, Nagini," said Voldemort. Everyone but Moira watched the snake glide forward over the polished wood of the table. Moira pushed back her chair, letting go of Draco's hand before she did so and turned to leave. "Going somewhere?" She spun around again at the sound of Voldemort's voice. Nagini stopped too. She even looked up from her prey to watch Moira.

"This is insane and disgusting. I'm not watching it." And she turned and walked away. After a quick look at his mother and father, Draco followed her.

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: Sorry for the delay. College is crazy and I'm trying not to post stuff on here before I have the story completed otherwise I tend to leave people with a half-finished product and that's no ok.

Anyway, what do you think? Also, as far as characters and personality go, are Moira and Draco the same Moira and Draco we know and love from the first fic or are they weird? Let me know.

Also, by the way, because we saw so very little of Draco in the 7th book, there is significantly more in this fic about his and Moira's friendship. I'm not really sure if that's going to be good or bad for you guys, so let me know.


	2. Vacation

Chapter 2: Vacation

"Wow," Draco muttered to himself as he and Moira climbed the stairs to his second floor bedroom.

"See? It's not so hard is it?"

"He's going to be angry isn't he, he Dark Lord?"

Moira shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe we undermined his authority by leaving before we were dismissed but it's not like we don't know what happened. I just didn't want to hang around to watch it. Maybe letting Nagini - well, you know- was supposed to teach us all a lesson, the lesson that all Muggles and Muggleborns are scum and if we try to defend we'll pay the same price as Charity did. However, don't we already know all of that?"

"I wonder about the bit about Muggles though. You don't see them fighting like we do and, like I said, some of the best students in my year are Muggleborn or were raised by Muggles."

"They fight like this," Moira corrected him, though she was happy his parents teachings hadn't completely brainwashed him. He was his own person. "I'll give you a book on the last century and you can see that they fight. As to the best students in your year, they have just as good a shot at being great as you do, whether they're pure-blood, half-blood or muggle born. The only advantage you have over them is that you've known since you were small why the things that happened around you were occurring. They just thought it was strange."

He nodded in agreement. "You sound like you know a lot about this." He wasn't looking at her, but he wasn't directly making an attempt to avert his eyes. He was simply looking ahead as they walked down the hall.

"I didn't quite take Muggle Studies at Hogwarts, but I spent a good amount of time with Professor Burbage talking about it." This was true. What she did not tell him just then was that she had lived in a Muggle community with her parents until age nine and then spent the next two years and the summers in between Hogwarts years in a Muggle orphanage. He had pushed open his bedroom door.

Draco was looking at her now as she passed him into the room. "You knew her?"

Moira nodded. "But I couldn't've done anything to stop it. You had a good grip on my hand." He had pushed his door closed and was now leaning against it.

"That was why you didn't stop him?" He felt as if her previous statement was not the whole truth.

"We aren't cut out for this," Moira began. "but it would've been too un-Death Eater to stop him. I just wasn't gonna watch that snake devour her." She had turned around, walked away from Draco, and sat down on his bed. There was a look of compassion on Draco's face. He did not know what it was like to watch a friend being murdered and he hoped he'd never have to find out. He crossed the room and sat down very close beside Moira.

She was looking away from him, down at the floor. "It's ok," she shook her head and looked back up at him, trying for a smile. He put one arm around her shoulders and she stiffened momentarily but them rested her head on his shoulder. They sat like that for several comfortable moments, both recognizing silently that sitting here, feeling the warmth of another person, knowing that for some reason, on some level, that person cared what happened to you, cared how you felt, wanted to see you happy, was irreplaceable. "I've got an idea," Moira said.

"Hm?" Draco said, not moving.

"I want to go camping." He moved and stared at her and she could almost see the question mark on his face. "Camping. Like a Muggle, in a tent."

"What was that about un-Death Eater?" He smiled at her and she mock-glared back.

"It's fun. It'll be fantastic. You've never been camping?"

"We stayed in a tent for the Quidditch World Cup a few years ago but it wasn't what you'd call camping. We used magic all the time and the tent was the size of a small house on the inside."

"Oh no. I'm talking about actual camping. Pitching a normal-sized tent and sleeping there, away from here for a few days."

He thought for a moment then asked, "Can I come?" Moira sat up and looked him straight in the eye.

"Of course you can. I sort of expected you to."

"Well then. When do we leave?"

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: Aww, Draco and Moira. I've got like 40.000 more words for you to review. :)


	3. Close

Chapter 3: Close

They left that night, when everyone else was asleep. Moira woke him carrying a large bag over her shoulder. "Ready?" she whispered. He pushed the covers off himself (she realized he was still fully dressed) and swung his feet off the bed. She stepped back to avoid being kicked.

"Yeah," he said and he didn't sound groggy at all; He had been faking sleep. He grabbed a bag from beneath his bed and stood up, facing her. She grinned at him, turned around and left the room quietly.

They moved quickly, despite the darkness, around to the side of the house where the brooms were kept. Draco entered as Moira ignited the candle so he could see. He tossed the Nimbus to her and took the Comet 260 off the stand. They were quiet and serious as they made sure their bags were secure. Moira's clinked around and Draco looked at it questioningly. "In a minute," Moira mouthed. They kicked off from the ground and Moira stayed even with Draco, making sure not to go faster than he could. "It's the tent," she said as they flew off toward the southeast.

"We're gonna set it up when we get there?" Moira nodded.

"Unless you want to sleep under the stars." Also an option.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked.

"I figure we can fly for a while until we get cold and then Apparate somewhere quiet and far away. Have you been to Normandy?"

"France?" She looked sternly at him then said:

"Yes, Draco, Normandy, France.

"You want to go camping in Normandy?"

"Well where do you want to go?"

"Normandy's fine. I was just thinking we were gonna stay on England."

"We can if you want." He slowed down, stopped and turned the broom to look at her. She stopped too and they faced each other in the night sky.

"It's a good idea," he said, "I can practice my French."

"Tu parles Francais?" She rolled her eyes at her direct English-French translation but moved on again, flying slowly with Draco beside her so they could keep talking without having to shout over the wind in their ears.

"On dit 'parles-tu francais'," he corrected her, "et un peu." His English accent was very pronounced but she smiled. "Don't you laugh at me!" He flew over to her and pushed her with his shoulder.

"You don't want to start this. Not when we're a hundred feet in the air." He rammed her again, harder but still obviously playing. "Now you've done it!" She pushed him back and her strength, combined with the power of her broom pushed him and his several feet back in the direction he had come. She lodged her broom under his and moved one leg so she was sitting sideways on her broom, her knees facing away from him, then grabbed his broom and sat very close to the end, Her legs extended to prevent the Nimbus from being swept away on the breeze.

Draco had been trying to stop her but now that she was sitting on his broom and holding onto her own he was completely immobilized unless he wanted to risk throwing her to the ground. They were laughing as they whacked each other. "Get back on your own broom!" he said.

"Stop hitting my shoulder then."

"What does it matter? You're a Beater! You're used to it."

"No, dear, Beaters are not known for getting hit with Bludgers. They are known for hitting the Bludgers at the other Seeker."

"Whatever! Get off my broom!" He put a hand under her legs and another around her back and lifted her off. She let go of his broom, knowing that if she held on she'd pull the handle up and they would both go flying upward toward the clouds. Instead, she put them both around Draco's neck, preventing him from moving away once he'd set her back on her broom.

They both stopped squirming long enough to look each other in the eye and realize how close they were. Moira's arms were wrapped around Draco's neck, her elbows on his shoulders, one of her hands holding tight to her other wrist. Their noses were nearly touching. They stared at each other for a moment, silver-grey eyes unable to pull away from dark brown ones, and vice versa. Then Moira looked down, away from Draco and let go of her wrist.

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: Guys! I'm just gonna say this and realize later that I'm a total nerd for putting this out there for all 30 of you to read but I got HP7pt2 yesterday and I'm so happy! Ok, rant done. But also, review the story dangit!


	4. Maybe

Chapter 4: Maybe

It was very late or early, depending on how you wanted to look at it, when they arrived in Normandy. They had flown a good deal but when they reached the Chanel they thought it best to Apparate. Draco took Moira's arm so that they stayed together and after a moment of uncomfortable pressure, they stood again at the seaside. "Are we pitching the tent now then?" Moira asked, dropping her bag in the sand and looking around. Draco looked up at the stars, which stood out white against the dark night sky.

"Do we have to?"

"We don't have to do anything. That's why we came here isn't it?"

He shrugged. "Why not sleep under the sky like you suggested? We can never see the stars from inside the house." Moira nodded.

"Fine with me." She was always so relaxed. She collapsed onto the sand, not sat down, literally collapsed. Her knees hit first then she sort of fell sideways and rolled onto her back. Draco gave her a 'what was that?' look. "It doesn't hurt." She said. "It's soft, kind of itchy though, but not as itchy as grass. Try it. It's funny."

He looked unsure for a moment, like he felt stupid or childish or like for some other reason he couldn't just let himself fall like an idiot onto the soft sand. "I don't think so." He sat down carefully beside her. He had no choice but to fall backward when she sat up and pushed him down. "Whoa!"

She laughed as she held him down for a second before turning and letting herself fall again onto the sand. He was looking sideways at her as she smiled up at the stars. "I don't know why that's so funny," she said. She turned her head and saw him looking at her and when he realized she had seen him, he immediately looked away. "What?" she asked, "What are you looking at?"

He shook his head, "My crazy friend," he answered and she saw his eyes flick to look at her. When he'd looked away again she picked up a handful of sand and set it on his chest. "Hey!" He said, brushing the tiny stones off himself.

She had sat up again and he followed suit. "You said I'm crazy. I'm not that crazy." She joked with him, pretending to be hurt.

"I'm sorry," he continued with a make-believe sympathetic tone. "Want a hug?"

"No." She shook her head for emphasis, her voice perfectly serious. "I don't really like hugs. They're awkward."

"In that case..." He practically tackled her with the force of his hug. The only reason they did not fall backward was because she put a hand out to prevent herself being pushed over. He laughed as he pulled away. "Your hair's all sandy." She closed her eyes and shook her head like a dog, flinging sand everywhere. "Ah!" Draco said, closing his eyes a split second too late and rubbing at them to get the grains out. "I didn't say it was a bad thing!" she stopped and looked at him.

"Oh," she said, when she realized she'd gotten sand into his eyes. "Sorry. If you cry it'll come out."

"I'm not gonna cry."

"A wise decision. I've seen you cry before. It's not pretty." He tried to glare at her, but it was difficult with his eyes closed and his fingers in then. "Take your fingers away," Moira instructed and when he did so slowly, she took hold of his wrists and brought them down. "Blink," she told him. It'll have the same effect as crying."

"I'm not crying though," he assured her quickly He blinked once or twice.

"No. Quickly. You're trying to get the tear ducts in the corners of your eyes to produce tears to wash the sand away. It's not crying though. It's just water really." She talked him through it as he did what she'd recommended. "Good," she said, "Feel better?" He nodded and wiped once more at his eyes.

"Yeah, loads. Thanks."

"Sorry. Maybe not the smartest thing."

"That's what I get for hugging you." She let go of his wrists and looked at him. "What? Now who's looking at people?" Rather slower than the average person, she put her arms around him in a gentle, slightly awkward hug. He smiled and put his arms around her too, resting his chin on her shoulder, noticing somewhere in his brain that even though she had been laying on the ground her hair still smelled clean. He felt her lift her head and immediately loosened his arms, thinking she wanted to pull away but was surprised when he felt her put her chin on his shoulder. "Copycat," he joked quietly.

"I'm an adorable copycat and you love me."

"What?" He turned his head, trying to look at her, but couldn't see the expression on her face due to the fact that she was looking over his shoulder.

"You can hug me," as usual she ignored the question she didn't want to bother answering. "It's ok. It's nice." He tightened his arms around her again.

Moira realized a minute later that they weren't so much hugging as snuggling and when that thought entered her head she pulled gently away from him. "We should go to sleep." She stood and walked over to where her bag lay on the ground. Draco had a sleepy, slightly stunned look on his face, like he'd just been hit with something. She tossed him his bag as well, noticing his look. "Oh come on! You went to a boarding school. That can't have been your first hug."

He shook his head. "Of course not. It's...nothing." She didn't want to make things awkward or risk messing up their friendship by pressing him. She found the corners of her blanket and spread it on the sand beside him.

"You brought one right? Something to sleep on?" He nodded. It was odd, this dazed feeling he had. What was going on with him? What was with her? She wasn't a romantic, that he was sure of. They had been friends for six months now; he would know if she was, but there was something he couldn't explain. Or maybe he didn't want to? Maybe he was worried he would lose her if he found a way to explain why he was so dazed.

Perhaps it was that she'd said it was nice, hugging him when usually she thought hugs were awkward. Maybe there was something about him that she liked, that made her feel less awkward. Maybe it was that she had let go so slowly, like she felt she had to, not because she'd wanted to. Maybe it was everything they'd gone through in the last six months leading up to this point in Normandy, France that made him feel this weird light-headedness.

Moira set her pillow so that when she lay down she could easily see the ocean past her feet. She took a second blanket out of her bag and curled up underneath it. Draco was sitting next to her. "You gonna go to sleep?" Her voice was even, normal, just as she wanted it, but she couldn't deny to herself that she hadn't wanted to move. It'd been a courtesy to their friendship. What if something happened tonight and it spoiled everything? Maybe this one-on-one camping idea had not been one of her best.

Draco stood up when she asked if he was going to sleep. He repeated what she had done with the blankets and pillow and lay down 'next to' her. They were a good three feet apart, snuggling with their blankets and pillows, trying to find the best position to sleep in on the uneven terrain. "Goodnight," Moira said, burying her head in the pillow. "Don't let those weird French sand bugs bite."

"G'night," Draco muttered.

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: Awkward, cute or both? Sorry for the repetitive vocab though. :)


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